"Look at him, he is not even crying a bit."

"Yeah, it is his father. Even his mother is like that. Why are they so unfeeling? There is not a hint of grief on mother and son's faces."

"Can you really blame her though? He was never there for her and they never really liked each other? What do you expect? But that son is really cold."

"Yeah, what kind of son can stay that calm after their father's death?"

I looked around as I heard the whispers of my relatives. I don't know ninety percent of the people present I barely recognize the remaining ten percent.

We never even met, but here they are judging me in my own house at my father's funeral.

But they are not wrong. I am standing here right beside the corpse of my father, but I don't even feel anything. No pain, no heartache, the only thing I feel is the slight irritation due to the whispers and crying of all these relatives.

I know for a fact that this is not normal but, I can't do anything about it.

I was like this for a while now and I don't know why I became like this. Cold, unfeeling, detached, emotionless. But I am okay with it. No conscience or guilt is trying to change that thought, so I went along with it and completed the funeral procedures.

The Next day.

I am sitting in my Pajamas as I read the newspaper calmly. My mother came and sat beside me and asked.

"Are you really okay?"

"I am fine." I answered matter of factly.

"I know he has been a terrible father but you don't have to hold back if you want to cry, you can cry. I won't blame you for loving him." My mother said very lovingly.

I looked her in the eyes and repeated those words again and again in my mind.

A classic mother, always thinking the best of her son, and a classic 'my mother'. She thought I am not crying because of her.

Little did she know that I really don't want to cry.

"I am Okay." I told her once again and stood up. My Mother also stood up and placed her hands on my shoulder for which I shivered a little and controlled my urge to slap it away. I gently removed it and said.

"I am Okay."

I looked at her hand and I couldn't stand it, I stopped feeling the warmth from her hands for a long time and from 'that' day onwards I couldn't bear her touch and I don't know exactly why.

I went upstairs to my room and locked myself in before turning on the computer and started typing.

I am a fantasy web novel writer. I make up stuff and write in the form of a story. A bunch of people who mostly have a problem with reality read it.

I don't do it because I am extremely passionate, my mind couldn't keep my thoughts in order. It is chaotic and out of that chaos I make up the stuff and write the stories.

I wrote until the afternoon and went downstairs for lunch. My mother cooked a simple lunch and we ate it in silence. At least I did.

My mother is talking about my father. About how pathetic he was and how shitty of a husband and a father he was. Here and there she is adding why I should try to forgive him, and the main reason is his being dead.

But the only thing that is going on my mind is how bland the food is and how good would it be if she stayed silent.

I finished my lunch calmly and I tried my best to give her some answers to give her a feeling that her words are not wasted even though they are.

I went back up, typed until dusk, masturbated, took a bath, and went back to dinner. Once again I tried to finish the food with her talking by the side.

This is pretty much my life. Detached, cold emotionless. I don't know why I have become like this and when I changed into a person like this. But I know two people who might know the answer to this question.

The problem is they disappeared. I am waiting for them to come back. I could still remember the day I first saw them.

When I was ten and I still remember them as if I saw them yesterday.

I thought to myself as I tried to get some sleep, even though I couldn't. And my mind drifted back to the day it all began. The day which I think is the origin of my current state.